Savage Divinity

As the days grew short and the nights cold, Du Min Gyu found himself mired in a waking nightmare of marital pursuits.

It seemed like such a small thing, planning a wedding, but there were a thousand seemingly inconsequential details which needed deciding, and he couldn’t bear the thought of making the wrong decision and becoming the fool who ruined his beloved granddaughter’s wedding. How this could be possible, he couldn’t say, but over the last month, people jokingly warned him against screwing things up every time he mentioned he was in charge of planning this grand event. Granted, Yan claimed she didn’t care about the banquet, or even the ceremony itself, but his unconventional granddaughter was far more girlish than she cared to let on. She was fascinated by gaudy makeup and flowery perfumes, contemporary fashions and elaborate embroidery, licentious novels and frivolous gossip, so Min Gyu would be a fool to take her at her word when she said she didn’t care. It wasn’t that he thought she was lying or feigning disinterest, but rather she was lying to herself when she claimed she didn’t care. All women cared about their weddings, even those like Yan who thought they didn’t, because if something were to go wrong during the banquet, then she would harbour her enmity and resentment until her dying day.

Which made it all the more important for Min Gyu not to mess things up. He only had the one granddaughter, which meant this would be his only chance to experience a wedding from this side. Or a wedding at all, considering Kyung’s utter lack of interest in matters of love or lust, but he could only tackle one problem at a time. With Yan serving on the front lines and her betrothed overseeing a massed migration of commoners, Min Gyu was left to plan a grand, lavish wedding banquet for over two thousand people in the heart of the Central Citadel, all by himself.

Well, he wasn’t entirely alone, or even close to it, for Eun and her army of clucking maids were forever pestering him for decision after decision. Handkerchief embroidery, tablecloth material, seating arrangements, and flower combinations, he soon discovered he was not equipped to make educated decisions regarding marriage or decorations. Who knew chrysanthemums were used as such vulgar innuendo, or that embroidering ‘double happiness’ was now tacky and dated? The world had changed so much since his youth, and he did not much like what it’d become, but alas, this was his granddaughter’s wedding, and he would not have it ruined by whispers of gauche, inelegant decor.

Even after Yan’s return from the front lines, she remained adamant about her indifference, to the point where Min Gyu had to banish her from the planning process because she refused to take things seriously. The fool girl wanted a lavender dress with a bouquet of matching orchids, instead of the traditional red and gold which everyone would expect. To make matters worse, orchids represented love and fertility in the language of flowers, a sure way to have guests making snide remarks about her barren womb. Even after carefully explaining this to his headstrong granddaughter, all she did was shrug and ask, “Who cares?”

Min Gyu did. He wanted everything to be perfect for his beloved granddaughter, even if she didn’t care in the least. In fact, it almost seemed like she was going out of her way to make foolish suggestions, like serving pears at the reception or seating everyone at tables for four, homophones for ‘separation’ and ‘death’ respectively.

In the end, Min Gyu handled all the arrangements on his own and prayed little Yan would love it, but on the morning of the Autumn solstice, there were other matters to attend to first, namely the Bekhai marriage ceremony itself. A marvellous thing, these Bekhai traditions, and although he’d been dismissive of them at first, he soon came to see the beauty and reasoning behind them. Take the groom’s hunt for example, a legacy dating back to simpler times when the Bekhai and other citizens of the Empire lived off the land in truth, without all the fuss of contemporary surplus and distribution. If there was to be a wedding feast, then the groom must provide it by taking spear and bow into the wilderness and returning with what he hoped would be a sumptuous offering. Granted there was no need for this here in the Citadel, as anyone could conjure up a grand feast with a wave of a hand and a toss of a purse, so Rain and the Bekhai made do by ceremonially slaughtering a hog outside the Citadel. Since Min Gyu didn’t have a manor in the citadel, he instead reserved an outdoor stage and decorated it with red streamers and red-paper lanterns for the express purpose of this wedding ceremony, which took place in full view of an adoring audience while the raucous melody of drums and cymbals filled the air.

Just as the Bekhai ancestors would understand Rain’s need to bend the rules of the hunt, so too would they understand Min Gyu and Central’s love of fanfare and spectacle. What good were games of skill and strength if there was no one there to watch them?

Once the boy took the stage with his family and the traditional greetings were out of the way, Min Gyu turned to address the crowd, who as expected were taking in the festivities with fascinated delight. “Ladies and gentleman, friends and compatriots,” he began, beaming from ear to ear. “Just as the Mother sets forth trials and tribulations to test our mettle, so too must I test this young man before me, and I have asked you all here to bear witness to the gruelling tests and formidable challenges I intend to set forth for him, all in order to determine if he is truly worthy of my granddaughter, Du Min Yan.”

Grinning in good humour, Rain stood before him in full Imperial regalia, proclaiming his readiness and playing along while Sarnai and Alsantset pursed their lips and glowered with disapproval, and Akanai stoically emanated marked dissatisfaction. Why they were still upset, Min Gyu couldn’t say, but they’d discussed all of this beforehand and agreed to let him hold the contests publicly, so long as they could keep the tea ceremony private. A strange request, keeping the most important part of the ceremony private, for the tying of bonds and acknowledgement of heaven, family, and husband and wife seemed most suited to public display, but Min Gyu knew it would be a crime to keep these contests private, as they would soon become the latest craze across Central for reasons which had nothing to do with Rain.

What better way to show off on one’s wedding day than through games of strength and skill? What better way for a father to express disapproval to prospective son-in-laws than by humiliating them in public? This was simply a marvellous idea, and Min Gyu was excited to start a new trend in Central. “The first test,” he proclaimed, slowly panning over the crowd to bask in their entranced expressions, “Is one of intellect and aptitude, a test designed by some of the greatest minds in the outer provinces.” On his cue, said great minds took the stage, Nian Zu, Ryo Dae Jung, Shuai Jiao, Mitsue Juichi, and Tran Hoang, the five Colonel Generals of the Imperial Army. There was a time when Min Gyu believed he would one day stand among them, but alas, it was not to be, not without more effort than he was willing to put into this endeavour. He was old and out of practice, so his twilight years were better spent making amends with his loved ones than chasing after a young man’s dreams, so he no longer cared for rank or recognition. Still, being well-connected had its uses, and Min Gyu only needed Rain’s help to get Southern Colonel General Hoang’s assistance in this matter. The other four were happy to give Min Gyu face, though Mitsue Juichi only agreed after he learned why his presence was required.

“These great men need no introduction,” Min Gyu began, as the crowd gasped and whispered in awe, “And they are here to lend this old fool a hand. I mean to test my prospective grandson-in-law’s knowledge of military tactics, but seeing how I am sorely out of practice, I thought it best to find minds sharper and more impartial than mine to come up with the questions and judge his answers.” A bit of self-deprecating humour, which Min Gyu found made others see him in a better light than if he were to claim he was sound of mind and more brilliant than ever. A lesson learned from humble Rain, but this was neither here nor there. “And, in the fair spirit of competition, I asked the Colonel Generals to nominate their own young heroes to test their mettle against this young man in this game of tactical acumen. Situ Jia Zian, Ryo Da’in, Yong-Jin, Isshin Ken-Shibu, and Tran Kham, if you would please take your places.”

As the invited young heroes stepped onto stage, Min Gyu explained the rules to the crowd. All six contestants would be given thirty minutes to write a short treatise on how they would approach a certain military engagement. To ensure fairness, Min Gyu took a page from Rain’s playbook and had the Colonel Generals submit ten questions each, which he then randomized and numbered from one to fifty. There on stage, he invited Mitsue Juichi to pick a number to decide which question would be asked, then, rather than reading the question out loud, Min Gyu handed each contestant a sealed envelope containing a copy of said question, and once everyone was seated and ready, he turned over the waiting hourglass and announced the start of the test.

With each Colonel General and Min Gyu responsible for overseeing a different contestant, there would be no chance for any of them to receive instructions without Sending, not without the proctors sensing as much. For some reason, the prospect that Domain-capable Experts could sense Sending made Rain go pale with fright, but that was neither here nor there as the young heroes sat at their desks and put brush to paper while a hired troupe of acrobats performed for the waiting crowd. To ensure complete fairness, neither Min Gyu nor the Colonel Generals watched as the contestants filled in their answers, and when the thirty minutes were up, he had them all turn in their pages to ensure no one would know who wrote which answer, save for the authors themselves, who were moved behind a Sound Barrier so as not to influence the final judgment.

Min Gyu himself read the question out loud, a complex riddle posed by Shuai Jiao involving a static fortification and compromised supply routes due to a besieging Defiled force. Laid out for the contestants was a long list of names and details given in the second person, which painted a picture of events over the course of a week, including sometimes conflicting statements from the commanding officer, the second-in-command, the quartermaster, and various lower-ranked officers. It began with reports of the Defiled force which were never verified, then moved on to patrols being ambushed while off their scheduled routes, followed by the Enemy sneaking into the fortifications through a blind spot in the sentry lines and burning down the lion’s share of the supplies. All of this pointed to a traitor within their midst, and Shuai Jiao tasked the contestants to describe what steps they would take to ferret out the traitor before he or she could do more irreparable harm.

As he read out each answer in full, the gathered Colonel Generals graded them in silence, and before long, they had unanimously decided upon the best answer. Situ Jia Zian and Ishin Ken-Shibu presented near identical papers, meticulously detailing how they would lock down the fortification and use military protocols to ensure no Defiled could move freely. Soldiers were to always travel in groups of four or more, increased patrols to overlap and check in on one another, dispatching a second and third team of messengers to request for reinforcements, and so on and so forth. A textbook answer to an all too familiar problem, but unfortunately, while not explicitly stated in the question itself, careful examination of the statements would have revealed that all those measures were already in place, and had clearly done nothing to salvage the situation.

As for Min Gyu’s beloved god-daughter, Da’in’s answer was similar to young Tran Kham, taking somewhat more extreme measures to lock down the base. While they differed in specifics, the general goal was the same, to uncover the Defiled traitor through rigorous scrutiny and... extralegal actions. In Da’in’s own words, extreme situations dictate extreme measures, and while it was somewhat worrying to see how comfortable she was administering what amounted to extreme mental torture to soldiers under her command, Min Gyu was unable to deny he would likely do the same. Defiled had been known to reveal themselves under duress, and while most were able to withstand physical pain well enough, few could keep up the facade while being dry drowned.

Unfortunately, it also had the unpleasant side effect of causing good, untainted soldiers to turn Defiled as well, so the practice had long since been abandoned after one man, in an effort to prove there were no detrimental effects of dry drowning, subjected himself to the same practice and promptly turned into a Demon. The man’s name had long since been erased from the annals of history, but the lessons had remained to this day, and even the fabled Confessor avoided the practice as it was far too efficient at turning men and women away from the Mother’s light.

As for Yong-Jin, he uncovered an inconsistency in the commanding officer’s testimony, and from there, unravelled a plausible explanation for the troubles plaguing the fortification. The commanding officer was Defiled and working in concert with the quartermaster to bring down the good soldiers under their command, and should be taken into custody or executed. Min Gyu even believed it himself, until he read Rain’s answer, which was... strange to say the least. “Whoever wrote these reports and took the statements is the Defiled traitor,” Rain’s essay read. “Probably the commanding officer’s chief scribe. That’s why the reports were never verified, patrols went off route, and blind spots were left in the sentry lines, because the commander’s orders were altered before being dispatched. This is also a good reason for why literacy is a requirement for officers now, and...”

What followed was a brief discourse on how Rain came to his conclusion, and what measures the Imperial Army could take now in order to ensure it would never happen again. Unique code words and written orders, ciphered messages and call-signs, designating field command to front-lined officers and non-verbal orders in the form of coded flag signals and more, it was a fascinating and all too concise look into an entirely different military protocol. Min Gyu had heard from Colonel Hongji about how he’d already put some of these things to use, but Rain’s pithy explanation on the subject matter made so much more sense. It wouldn’t take much to put these practices to use, doubly so now that paper was so readily available allowing for written orders to be dispatched even for the most menial of tasks.

It was, without a doubt, the most correct answer, especially considering all five Colonel Generals recognized Shuai Jiao’s question had been based on true events, and Rain laid out answers which had not been discovered until hundreds of years after the fact. An argument could be made that Rain knew what to say because he’d read about it himself, which was doubtful since it was an obscure text known only by a select few, but even if this were the case, it was a well-deserved victory, for none of the other laudable young heroes were learned enough to know about this dark moment in history, and if they had known, they could not have given as complete an answer as Rain had.

All in all, a suitable performance from the young man, and Min Gyu was pleased by how this first test went down. Unfortunately, it also took up most of the hour he’d been allotted, and thus his second test reflected as much. “For your next test,” Min Gyu began, after thanking all the previous judges and contestants, “I intended to test your resolve and determination, but if ever there were a person who personifies grit and perseverance more than you, then their name would be known across the Empire, and I might be tempted to snatch him up as a grandson-in-law instead.” A bit of bragging never hurt anyone, and since Rain was too humble to boast of his accomplishments, Min Gyu would do so in his place. After regaling the crowd with examples of Rain’s fortitude and accomplishments, Min Gyu went on to say, “As such, I feel you would pass any test I put before you as easily as turning a hand, so I have no choice but to move on to your third and final test.”

Truth be told, all of his boasting served a secondary purpose, which was to give the labourers time to set up the third test, an obstacle course for the boy to run, in full view of his admiring audience. Min Gyu had seen the boy put these courses to good use, whether it be in his personal training, troop training, or animal training, and it was high time the world learned about it too. Not only was it a useful tool, it was rather enjoyable to watch, for the contestants’ failures as much as their victories, and Min Gyu intended to use this to showcase Rain’s abilities were still formidable, even for a someone who could no longer be considered a true Martial Warrior.

The premise was simple, to start from one end of the obstacle course and make it to the other without touching the ground while collecting three trophies along the way. To make it more interesting and exciting, Min Gyu picked four of his guards to show up in two lion dancing teams and had them dance along the course and ‘hinder’ Rain’s progress, though in truth, they were there there to keep him safe as he navigated through the dangers and pitfalls of this advanced obstacle course in his golden Imperial armour.

Though he had yet to begin, it was clear this would soon be another favoured past-time for Central, as the crowd responded with cheers and applause. Even Sarnai and Alsantset looked less upset than before, finally warming up to Min Gyu’s idea to have this all out in the open. What surprised him the most was that they never once accused him of doing this to humiliate Rain, only that they didn’t want to make a spectacle of what was traditionally a private event, which was curious indeed. Min Gyu’s own family thought him guilty of robbing them of their ‘rightful’ inheritance, but Baatar, Sarnai, and the other Bekhai? They trusted him with Rain’s life and honour without question, and their trust meant more to him than they could ever know.

Holding his hands up for silence, Rain smiled at the crowd and said, “Let’s hope these lions have yet to eat, else I may have trouble beating them to the prize. Wish me luck then.” The crowd did so, enthusiastically at that, for he’d won over most of the outer provinces since being raised to Office. It wasn’t just the Legate’s outspoken endorsement, but also Rain’s behaviour ever since, showing that not only did he have the outer-provinces’ best interests in mind, he would also not favour the North too much over South and Central. One and a half million farmers and tradesmen were slated to settle along the new Western Border, and he’d done all that he could to ensure the whole process was straightforward and aboveboard, with none of the typical back-room dealings so common in matters like this.

Rain was a new breed of noble, an honest, forthright, and virtuous one who approached politics with the same zealous dedication and honourable principles he exhibited as a Martial Warrior, and the people admired him for this. So they cheered for his victory, shouting encouragements and inspirational platitudes as he took his place at the foot of the obstacle course, and after a series of stretches familiar to any Martial Warrior, Rain gave a thumbs up at the band and set off across the gangplank at a dead sprint. Cymbals and drums sounded out in an exhilarating beat as he conquered the first obstacle with ease, a wall standing at twice his height which he easily climbed over with the lion dancers hot on his heels. A Martial Warrior could have leapt clean over that wall, but Rain surged over using speed, leverage, and no small amount of coordination, and anyone with eyes could see he did so in the most efficient manner possible and had his hands ready to fight in record time.

If the Defiled were to learn and train in this trick, it could make defending fortifications much more difficult, because Rain spent the least amount of time vulnerable before reaching his feet.

The next obstacle was a field of stepping blocks, arranged at differing heights and distances so as to make it unclear which path was best. Rain took the obvious route, following the stones higher and higher until he finally realized it was a trap, but instead of turning around to retrace his steps, he launched himself at the closest lion dancers and used the costume’s sturdy wood-carved head as a stepping stone before continuing on his merry way. The crowd gasped and cheered at the daring move, and Rain called out an apology from over his shoulder, but he didn’t slow down until he arrived at the next obstacle, a series of low walls no higher than his waist interspersed between suspended bars hanging just above his chest, which he was meant to duck under. Over, under, over, under, the boy jumped and ducked his way through this portion without slowing a single step, not even when the pattern shifted to try and throw him off. At the end of the walls and bars was a wooden tunnel barely wide enough for him to fit through, yet he dove in head first without hesitation and exited out the other end in the blink of an eye.

Even Martial Warriors as slender as Rain would have trouble with that tunnel, but the boy practised on his personal obstacle course often enough, and he was nothing if not daring.

Then came the swinging logs wrapped in cloth to dull the impacts, but Min Gyu could have saved his labourers the trouble. Rain ran through them without stopping, and even picked up his pace to avoid getting clipped towards the end, a feat even the lion dancers were unable to replicate as they stopped every few logs to avoid getting knocked off in front of thousands of viewers. This had more to do with timing and luck rather than speed, but Rain’s performance was impressive nonetheless. Leaving the swinging logs behind, he scampered up the five-story rope climb like a monkey with wings, grabbed the first trophy, a ring which he slid onto his index finger, and slid back down almost as quickly as he could fall before stopping short a scant half-meter above the platform. Then, without missing a beat, he darted off to the next obstacle, all before the lion dancers exited from the swinging logs.

Even if he were a Martial Warrior, that would have been an impressive descent, and the crowd went wild with applause as he left his ‘competition’ behind. Min Gyu was less than pleased, since they were technically there to keep Rain safe, so he ordered the dancers to skip the rope climb and hurry on to the angled platform jumps. Each one sat at a forty-five degree angle and a good two meters apart, but Rain jumped from one to the next as easily as he moved through the flat stepping blocks. Easier even, since he landed with both feet on the stepping blocks, but never set more than one foot down on the angled platforms while leaving his hands outstretched for balance. Launching himself off the last platform, he skipped over the short jaunt over to the ring swings. For a moment, it almost looked like he would fall short of catching the closest ring, but he barely caught on with more than the tips of his index and middle finger, which was more than he needed to get him to the next ring down the line. On the second ring, he swung even further and let go before grabbing the third ring, all so he could throw himself far enough to catch the fourth instead, only to continue on in this same fashion until he was through.

It was getting harder and harder for the crowd to remember Falling Rain was a cripple, for while none of his exploits were particularly difficult, even experienced Martial Warriors might not be able to replicate his feats so smoothly, not without considerable practice. What’s more, while Rain had experience using his own obstacle course, Min Gyu had been careful not to replicate it directly, changing the order, patterns, distances, sizes, and more when putting this whole thing together, yet Rain went through it on his first try as if he’d done so a thousand times before, his movements so natural it were as if he’d been born to perform them.

This was undeniably One with the World, so perhaps the boy wasn’t as crippled as everyone believed, himself included. After claiming the second trophy with ease, a golden bangle dangling from a rope hanging above the highest point on an inclined balance beam, he proceeded to slide down the rest of the balance beam on his feet rather than climb down like Min Gyu expected, and he almost felt like the boy was showing off a bit too much now. Luckily, the wall climb was next, and that slowed him down considerably, as there was no easy way to scurry up the handholds without Lightening or Cloud-Stepping your way over. Before he was halfway up, the lion dancers had caught up, and as if determined not to be outdone, began walking up the wall after him. On the other side, was a steeply inclined rope net they were supposed to climb down, but again, Rain defied expectations by running his way down alongside the lion dancers.

At the bottom of the net, they all came face to face with the twelfth and final obstacle, two smooth, vertical poles which measured just over fifteen metres tall, with their bases planted in the ground almost six meters away from the platform with nothing in between them. At the top of the poles was a rope, with each end tied to a pole and the final trophy suspended between them, the red silk knot they were to use in the next part of the ceremony. This part would be difficult even without opponents, but having been infected by the spirit of competition, the lion dancers soared across the gap without giving Rain a chance to try first. With their legs wrapped around the poles, the two dancers under each lion costume slinked their way up the poles like a strange, furry caterpillar, and for a heart-stopping minute, it seemed as if Rain had given up.

Until his arms shot out and a pair of throwing daggers cut clean through the rope holding the silk knot in place, which Rain then caught in mid air as he somersaulted off the stage.

Holding his prize overhead, he basked in his applause while Min Gyu smiled and clapped until his cheeks ached and palms were bruised. There was still hope for the boy’s recovery yet, and even if there weren’t, he would still make for a fine grandson-in-law. Not because of his wealth or status, but because it was clear he loved Yan dearly, as much as he could while also loving his dear Sumila and Mei Lin. Embracing his grandson-in-law in full view of the crowd, Min Gyu clutched the boy tight and Sent, “You be sure to treat her well. She puts on a strong front, but she is as fragile as any young maiden, so don’t you dare give her anything less than your best.”

“Understood, Grandpa Du,” Rain replied, and for once, the appellation didn’t sound forced or awkward.

With the silk ribbon in hand, Min Gyu announced that the obstacle course would remain in place for anyone to use and brought Rain into the restaurant beside the stage which he’d reserved for the tea ceremony. Inside, sat Yan, wearing her traditional red and gold dress, cut as scandalously as Eun would allow which was far more than Min Gyu was comfortable with, but this was Yan’s wedding and she seemed to love it. Kyung and Eun were also there, standing in as Yan’s family, as were most of Rain’s pets, all dressed up in their darling outfits. Even sweet Kishi wore a silk shirt, and even though she was too large to be a lap quin, she was also too stubborn to accept it as she threw herself into Min Gyu’s arms. Hugging the quin tight, he watched with teary eyes as Rain uttered the words to complete the ceremony, and Yan rushed over to accept the red ribbon around her wrists, despite the unseen strings of fate already entwined about their souls. Such was life, for a grown daughter could not be left unwed, but it pained Min Gyu to lose this wonderful granddaughter he’d only just accepted into his heart. A few short years together, not even a handful, and already she was leaving to start her own family, it just didn’t seem fair.

Which he blurted out word for word between tears after completing the tea ceremony and accepting his second cup of fortified wine.

“Oh Grandpa.” Both amused and distraught, Yan wrapped her arms around Min Gyu’s waist and he hugged her back in kind. “I’ll always be your granddaughter,” she said, with tears streaming down her cheeks without a care for her veil or makeup. “Nothing will change, just you watch. We’re still a family, and always will be, no matter what.” Rubbing her eyes with a smile, she pulled Kyung over into their embrace as well and said, “You too Kyung. You’re still my big brother, right?”

“Yes.” A simple statement, but one Kyung would stand by to his dying breath.

“Good, good.” Looking back and forth between his two grandchildren, Min Gyu didn’t say anything else, but his gaze spoke volumes to his love for these two. They were not the blood of his blood, but they were his family all the same, which was all that mattered for today. Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he shooed Yan back to her new husband and said, “I think we’ve all had enough of an old man’s maudlin complaints. This is your wedding now, a time for joy and celebration. Nothing else matters, my sweet girl, nothing besides your happiness.”

And he meant it. For the rest of the day, he didn’t care about anything else, not the bootlickers and backstabbers who came crawling in search of absolution, nor the opportunists or covetous rascals seeking to profit from his good fortune. He drank and laughed, cried and cheered, told stories to anyone who would listen about his oh-so-talented granddaughter, while discussing new obstacles to add to the course and lauding the achievements of his grandson-in-law.

People would laugh at him for being a sentimental old man in his cups, but their opinions didn’t matter, for today, his granddaughter had married the man she loved, a capable grandson-in-law who would treat her right, and that, in Min Gyu’s eyes, that made her more fortunate than most.

Best of all? Min Gyu found a kindred spirit in Divine Blacksmith Husolt, whose love of drink was only surpassed by his love for his wife and chess. While Min Gyu couldn’t understand the former, he wholeheartedly embraced the latter, and the two of them played long into the night while lamenting over losing their sweet girls to that lecherous Falling Rain, and discussing what they would do to him if he should ever hurt them.

It was refreshing to know that even after Min Gyu passed, Husolt would be there to uphold justice for little Yan, and soon enough, the Medical Saint might even join their little cabal and become another dagger hanging over Rain’s neck, one who would remain even long after Min Gyu was gone...

Chapter Meme

Gif just cuz